


The Evidence of Things Not Seen (The Substance of Things Hoped For Remix)

by krabapple



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krabapple/pseuds/krabapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of Lily's faith in all things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Evidence of Things Not Seen (The Substance of Things Hoped For Remix)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Remix 2006.
> 
> Original Fic is: _Before I Wake_ , Esinde Nayrall http://community.livejournal.com/sirius_fic/667.html

Lily's first memory is of Easter. She is three years old, an average sized girl with a small frame and very green eyes. Her hair is long, a deep red that shows up in the highlights of her father's dark hair. Her fair face is sprinkled with freckles; Lily hates them, but Petunia is envious, wishes there were freckles spotting her larger-than-usual nose.

Lily is sitting at her mother's feet while her mother braids her hair. Lily is tender-headed and a tug of a comb, or the push-pull of braiding, brings tears to her eyes. Usually her mother lets Lily wear her hair down, barely combed and wild, in pigtails if Lily is in a good mood, but today is special and Lily has to sit still while her mother performs a complicated French braid. Lily's trying not to complain, but it's hard not to when her mother's fingers hit a tangle during the braiding process. She spends a lot of time looking at her shoes; they are shiny and distracting, so they help. White Mary Janes, they go with Lily's brand new grown-up dress, the white one with the yellow sash. Mum and Dad didn't let her put on her dress until after breakfast, in case she got anything on it. Lily knows she's a big girl and that she wouldn't have dropped jam into her lap but Dad had used the voice that meant it would do no good to argue. She doesn't have to wear stockings with her new dress, which is a relief, as she hates them; her socks have lacy ruffles on them, though, and that makes Lily happy.

When they are done with her hair, Lily and her mother collect Petunia and Dad, and the entryway is a bustle of activity. Coats are put on, shoes are tied; her dad needs his new blazer. Lily's mum has brand new hats for both Lily and Petunia. Petunia doesn't like hers, and fidgets when their mother puts it on. Lily, however, loves hers – it's white with a yellow ribbon, just like her dress – and though she can barely see under the brim, she decides she never wants to take it off.

The small family walks sedately to the church around the corner. Her parents wave and greet neighbors and friends while Lily scans the street for signs of spring, and Petunia sulks silently about her hat. Even though it is April, it's still chilly, the dew tenaciously hanging onto the blades of brand new grass. They are close to the church when Lily breaks into a run, just for the sheer joy of it. Her skirt rustles satisfyingly as she pumps her legs, and the sashes on both her dress and her hat trail brilliantly behind her in the wind. She stops at the front steps of the church, slightly out of breath, in order to wait for the rest of the family to catch up.

When they do, both her mum and dad scold her. Dad says she could have ruined her new shoes and clothes, that running isn't ladylike; Mum says she could have gotten hurt if she'd fallen down. Lily secretly believes that nothing would have happened, but she doesn't like to be reprimanded, so it stings slightly all the same. She is quiet and obedient when her parents find a pew and they sit down. Lily tries to be extra-special good during the service; she doesn't fidget, or fall asleep, or talk when she isn't supposed to. She tries to pay attention, but she has no idea what the priest is saying, and when they start using the incense, she sneezes over and over again.

Her dad looks down at her, and Lily thinks that he might quietly reprimand her for the noise, but he reaches into his pocket and takes out a handkerchief instead. He passes it to Lily and she sneezes once more and wipes her nose. When Lily tries to pass it back to him he smiles and leans over to whisper, "Keep it." Lily smiles back, and does.

For the rest of her life, the smell of incense takes her back to the church, back to that Easter. Every time it gets used at Hogwarts, she smiles.

***

Lily and James are sitting on the floor in the small living room of the cottage in Godric's Hollow. They are surrounded by boxes, some of them open, leaking their contents onto the floor; some of them are still sealed, including all of the kitchen ones. Sirius had brought take-away curry for dinner, the three of them eating hastily between unpacking and juggling Harry. This is the fourth time they've moved house in the last year; Lily hopes to God it's the last. They are all exhausted, even Sirius, who leaves early in the evening to return to his London flat, where Remus is getting back from yet another fortnight abroad. Every one of them looks tired, haggard, dark circles under their eyes or lines forming around their mouths, on their foreheads.

James is sitting on the floor, his back to the wall; Harry is asleep in his lap, his face buried in James' shirt, one fist clutching the fabric near a button. Harry's snoring slightly, a small whistle of air in and out. James' head is propped against the wall, his Adam's apple stark against his throat because of the angle. His eyes are closed, but Lily knows he's not asleep. If he were, he'd be making the same whistling sound as Harry.

Lily moves forward, bending at the waist to lay her head upon James' thigh, her eyes becoming level with one of Harry's bare feet. She sighs as she slides her legs out from under herself, so that she's on her side on the floor; the wood is hard against her hip, but she doesn't care. She stays there, with her cheek pillowed on the warmth of James' leg and Harry's toes in her eyes.

***

Just before her eleventh birthday, Lily takes her first communion. They'd been talking about it in Sunday school for ages now, for years, it seemed. Many of the other children had already gone through the process, but not Lily: she wanted to make sure she was ready, that she knew what it meant before she did it, that she _believed_ it.

When she is at the altar, eating the bread and drinking the wine, she closes her eyes and doesn't just pretend, or try to believe that this is the body and blood of Christ, she _knows_ it, she makes sure she feels it in her head, in her heart, in her bones.

As she goes back to her seat, Lily makes out the faces of her mother and father, both beaming proudly. Even Petunia looks somewhat pleased, the frown on her face replaced by a small smile. Lily smiles at her family in return as she walks down the aisle, and when she does, the stitching detail on her dress suddenly changes from a pale green to a bright, happy pink. No one notices but Lily.

***

Lily first brings up the idea the next day, as she and James are doing the washing up from breakfast. It's a warm June day, and Harry is toddling around at their feet, dressed only in a tiny Gryffindor Quidditch t-shirt (a gift from Remus) and a nappy. James is washing while Lily is drying and putting away, and she carefully takes a plate from him and taps it with her wand before speaking.

"James?"

"Hmm?" James answers absently, using the self-soaping scrubbing brush on a plate while watching Harry produce a pot from one of the boxes.

"I've been thinking. Well, I've been thinking that maybe we ought to have Harry christened."

James pulls his gaze from Harry and moves it to her, handing her the plate. "What?"

"I think that we should have Harry christened. In the Church. When someone is christened, it means . . ."

"I know what it means, Lily," James says, in a sharper voice than Lily had anticipated. "I just don't . . . see why we should."

"Because I was," Lily starts. "And Petunia." At the name of her sister, James snorts. "It's a tradition in my family . . . I want Harry to be a part of it."

"It's a . . . wizards aren't usually christened, Lily."

Lily looks at him. "Some wizards are."

"Yeah, but they usually are, I mean, they're usually from – " James stops.

Lily raises her eyebrows, feels her lips thinning. "Half-bloods? Muggle born?"

"That's not what I was going to say!" James exclaims, throwing the brush into the sink.

Lily just stares at him, silent.

James sighs. "It's not . . . for the most part, the old wizarding families don't usually have their children christened. It's just not part of our world."

"Purebloods, you mean. Purebloods don't have their children christened. Wouldn't want them to get mixed up in any kind of Muggle superstition would you?"

"That's not it! It's just . . . it's not part of _our_ traditions. We don't believe in it, Lily."

Lily can feel the heat rise into her cheeks. "But my family does. _I_ do."

James sighs again, tilts his head as if he's trying to choose his words carefully. "Wizards . . . we believe in our own kind of magic. Purebloods, we celebrate _that_ magic; we don't know about anything else. That's what's real to us . . . we don't need other traditions."

Lily feels herself shaking, bites back a thousand different responses. "Shame that Harry's mother is a Mudblood, then, isn't it," she says, turning to leave the kitchen, angry, disappointed tears in her eyes that she _will not_ shed in front of James.

She hears James calling after her as she leaves, but she doesn't turn back, not even after she hears a crash and a small yelp that means Harry's pot has made contact with the floor.

***

Lily goes through confirmation even after three years of study at Hogwarts. At fourteen, she takes a special summer confirmation class the church is holding out of deference to children, like Lily, who spend the year away at boarding school. No one knows how different Lily's boarding school really is, but that's fine by her. She enjoys the time spent with other people who understand where she comes from, not just physically but spiritually; Lily is constantly surprised at how the wizarding world has picked up on some of the secular traditions of the Muggle world, but not the religious ones. Christmas is held, but it is all about the crackers and the stockings and the gifts; Hogwarts has spring holiday, but few students go home to celebrate Easter, like Lily does.

Lily finds it a bit strange, and a little sad, that a world so devoted to things unseen doesn't leave much room for faith.

***

Lily and James have fought nearly constantly over the last two days and finally, at the end of her frazzled nerves, Lily takes Harry over to Remus and Sirius' flat for a bit of relief.

Remus makes them all tea while Sirius entertains Harry in dog form. The small boy tangles his fists in the animal's ears and tugs, laughing merrily; the dog's tail thumps on the floor, but otherwise he pretends not to mind the incessant pulling. When Remus brings the tea and biscuits out on a tray and sets it on the coffee table, Sirius transforms back to a human again, causing Harry to squeal in delight. Sirius scoops Harry up in his arms and blows a raspberry onto Harry's cheek; Harry squirms and giggles hysterically until Sirius settles Harry onto his lap and hands him part of a biscuit to munch on. Happily absorbed in his treat and Sirius' attentions, Harry becomes quiet, chewing thoughtfully.

There's silence all around as the adults pour their tea, the clinking of cups and the occasional gurgle from Harry the only sounds in the room. Finally Lily says, "Thanks for having us over."

Remus waves the thanks away with his hand. "Happy you came. Would have been a boring afternoon round here otherwise."

"Haven't killed Prongs, have you?" Sirius asks. "As long as you're not just popping by on your way out of the country, we're happy to have you over."

Lily frowns, and Remus' heel makes contact with Sirius' toes, bearing down hard. Sirius protests with an "Ouch," and slides a little farther down the couch.

"Been talking to James, I take it," Lily says, sighing.

Sirius, having learned his lesson, shrugs in a way that doesn't admit anything, but Remus says, "A bit, yes."

Lily sighs again, and she knows she must look mutinous because Remus quickly adds, "But we're not here to take sides, Lily. We love you both; we know you'll work it out soon."

"I just . . . I just don't understand why he's so against this," Lily admits.

Both Remus and Lily turn to Sirius, who shrugs. "Far be it from me to be the voice of pureblood tradition," he starts, "but James is right that it's not something purebloods commonly do. I can see how Prongs might not think it's . . . necessary."

"But aren't we all fighting a war because we don't think the pureblood way of doing things is the only way of doing things?" Lily asks.

Sirius lowers his head and wipes crumbs off the front of Harry's shirt. "Yeah," he says softly. "Yeah, we are."

"Then why . . . why fight so hard against something I want, even if it's not pureblood tradition? If pureblood tradition matters so much to him, maybe he should have married one." Lily can't quite keep the bitterness out of her voice. James' feelings have made her feel inadequate, even strangely provincial, as if she's not really a part of the wizarding world – or his life – after all. Lily has come to expect exclusion from certain segments of wizarding society, but not ever from James.

Remus looks thoughtful for a moment. "Because, well. Maybe James is out of his comfort zone here. Spirituality, religion, it's not something he knows much about."

"But _I_ know about it," Lily says. "Isn't that good enough?"

"Maybe you need to show him," Remus answers. "Tell him about it. Teach him. Maybe then . . ."

"He won't be such a stubborn git?" Sirius says.

Remus smiles wryly. "Pretty much."

Lily considers this, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth for the first time in days. "I thought you two weren't taking sides."

Sirius grins. "It's just that after all the effort he put into winning you over, Evans, we'd hate to see him blow it now."

"Mum!" Harry agrees.

***

The first time Lily sees Petunia after their parents' funeral is at Dudley's christening. The church is full of neighbors and Vernon's work associates, and Lily takes a seat at the back hoping that no one asks to see her invitation, because she doesn't have one. She found out that the christening was taking place through Mrs. Figg, a member of the Order who lives in Petunia's new neighborhood. Lily is a bit surprised that Petunia and Vernon are having Dudley christened, as Petunia never really took church as seriously as Lily did; but then she realizes that having her son christened is expected in Petunia's new, "normal" life, and then it doesn't seem at all surprising.

Lily tries to speak to Petunia after the ceremony, while Petunia is holding Dudley and she and Vernon are rather pompously accepting congratulations. But Petunia, eyes as sharp as ever, sees Lily approaching; Lily can tell by the flash in her sister's eyes and the flush in her cheeks that she's embarrassed to see her – ashamed even. Worried that her odd, witch sister will do something funny and cause a scene. Petunia turns away from her, and Lily sees her lean in close to Vernon, make some excuse to leave briefly.

Lily stops, turns away, and leaves, so that Petunia doesn't have to. Feeling rejected and excluded, even from the world she comes from, Lily walks away.

***

Lily finds James asleep on the couch, where he's been spending the last three nights. He's snoring slightly, whistling through his nose, and she approaches softly, hoping not to startle him. This doesn't work; they've all been trained to fight, and been fighting, for so long that even their sleep is restless. James' eyes snap open, and Lily watches as his near-sighted eyes try to focus in the dark.

"It's just me," she says, tip-toeing over to the couch. James relaxes a bit and fumbles on the floor for his glasses. He puts them on as Lily sits down on the edge of the couch, near his knees.

Lily takes a deep breath. "Are you that disappointed in me?"

"What?"

"Are you that disappointed in me?" Lily repeats. "That I'm . . . that underneath it all, I'm just a Muggle with some silly superstitions? That you didn't find someone else, someone more like you?"

"Merlin, Lily!" James sits up so fast he nearly bumps his head against hers. Slowing down, he takes her head in his hands, frames her face with his palms. "Merlin, Lily. I've been in love with you since before I was even fifteen years old." His eyes search her face. "There's no one else I want to be with, no one else I want to be Harry's mum. You're extraordinary," he says.

Lily shakes her head, and some of her hair falls into her face. "I haven't been feeling very extraordinary lately."

"None of us have," James says. "Not even me," he adds, and Lily looks up at the note of sarcastic amusement in his voice.

Instead of answering, Lily reaches into her robe pocket, and pulls out a handful of material. She offers it to James, who takes it from her, turning it over in his hands.

"It's a handkerchief," James says.

Lily nods. "It was my dad's. The first thing I ever remember . . . it was going to church for Easter. The incense made me sneeze, so dad gave me his handkerchief. I've kept it ever since. It's . . . it's the only thing I have left of his."

James is silent for a moment. "Lily . . ." he starts, but Lily takes his hand, which stops him.

"I. I'm not asking you to believe in the things I do, James. I'm not asking you to believe in God, or in the Church of England. I'm not even asking you to let me raise Harry as a member of the Church. I'm just asking . . . if anything happens to us, I want there to be a plan." She pauses. "And if anything happens to Harry . . . I want to be able to see him again. To know him."

James considers her quietly. "That's what scares me, Lily. That you're thinking about us dying, about Harry . . ." James stops, unable to say it.

"We're _all_ thinking about those things, James. There's a war on . . . and Voldemort wants us, and our son. What scares _me_ is what will happen if we can't protect him forever."

"But we have to try!" James exclaims.

"I agree. I'd sacrifice my life to protect him. You know that."

James nods. "I don't want you to give up. This sounds to me like . . . giving up."

"I will _never_ give up, James. _Never_ ," Lily says, her voice, and her grip on his hand, strong. "Can't you trust me enough to know that? That christening him is another way of protecting him, through the things I have faith in?"

"The only thing I have faith in is magic, Lily."

Lily keeps her grip on James' hand, keeps her gaze on him and those hazel eyes she still hopes another child will have, as Harry has hers. "I know that. I know. You believe in the magic you were born to, the one you study, the one you think can keep you safe if you have your wits and your wand. I believe in that magic, too.

"I also believe in the magic _I_ was born to, not just the one with the spells and the wands. Don't you . . . don't you, can't you accept that there is magic in the world that has nothing to do with wizardry? That wizarding magic is only one kind of magic. You can _see_ the results of it, see the needle turn into a feather, or you turn into a stag; watch Remus become a wolf, and Sirius change into a dog. And that's reassuring, seeing the evidence. I know that's what you grew up with, what you know in your bones.

"But whether or not you believe in God, or Christ, don't you know that there are magical things that change people every day? Look at you . . . look at us. Friendship changes people; and loyalty; and love. You can't see those things, like you can't see fear, or hope, or doubt, but you know they exist. Those things have power, for good or for bad. I know you believe in those things, James, or you wouldn't have friends like Sirius or Remus. You wouldn't have me. We wouldn't have Harry.

"Can't you, for me, trust in the magic you can't see? Like you trust in the magic you can?"

Spent, Lily lowers her head, her hair coming down like a curtain to cover her face. After a moment, she feels James' hand slacken in her own, and she thinks that she has lost.

James pulls his hand away, and Lily still doesn't look up, not until she feels James' palm cupping her jaw, gently forcing her chin up. "I shouldn't have forgotten. Magic isn't the only thing I have faith in – I also have faith in you, Lily Evans Potter. You, you're the evidence of all the things I cannot see. And if this is what you want for us, and for Harry, then we should do it."

Lily's breath catches. "Are you sure?"

James smiles, his eyes tired behind his glasses. "I'm sure. As long as you'll teach me what to do."

Lily barely has time to say, "I will," before James kisses her, warm and sweet and soft, his hands warm on her face, and her arms are around his neck, her hands catching in his hair.

***

Lily brings Harry outside of the church after the christening is over. It was a small affair, as she had wanted and as she had promised James; just the two of them and Harry, and Sirius, whom they named godfather. Lily has gone along with James' notion that naming Sirius godfather was his idea, that it is Lily's concession to James' wishes about their decision to christen Harry. In her heart, Lily knows better. Sirius is her first choice, too; she loves Remus, but she knows that it is Sirius who would kill for Harry, die for Harry, and most important, love Harry fiercely and unconditionally. He would put her son above all else, and practical things, the things that don't matter as much, like how to cook a meal that isn't soup and buy clothes in children's sizes, he would learn.

Sirius and James have spent much of the day in quiet conference with each other, each seeking the support of the other, as they are now, holding quiet court near the altar. Lily doesn't begrudge them that. This is wholly out of their experience. For Lily, this is the church she was christened in, the place where she grew up, and was confirmed. The font they gathered around to christen Harry was the same one her parents had gathered around twice, once for Petunia, and once for her. This is the place where her footfall echoed on the marble tile; where she sat in hard wooden pews. It is where she first learned about love and hope, faith and sacrifice, trespass and redemption.

Lily stands on the steps, the hot summer sun beating down on her and her sleeping son, who is gurgling his dreams into her neck. For the first time in months, Lily isn't afraid. She knows now that one way or another, she'll be with Harry, always.


End file.
